Eastern High School - Punch and Judy Yearbook (Washington, DC)

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THE EASTERNER Published by the Pupils of Eastern High School, Washington, D. C. Volume XXII JANUARY, 1919 Number 2 Heroes Everyone Katnertne McCautey, 12a. The boys were back! Down the avenue they swung, bronzed, straight, strong, veritable young gods in their worn khaki uniforms and sporty oversea’s caps. How our hearts thrilled as we watched them; how, in spite of all our efforts, a lump persisted in coming up into our throats to choke us, as we watched with tear- dimmed eyes the moving columns! They were our boys, our own brothers, friends, friends’ brothers who were marching before us. They were our boys who had left their homes, their work, all their interests to go across the sea and fight for us. They were our own boys, who had stood at the Marne, at Chateau Thierry, at Belleau Wood, and stubbornly held their lines until the Huns fled, terrified in the face of a courage, the like of which was alien to their brutal hearts. And now these same boys who had won the admiration and deep thankfulness of nations were returning to us. We had known that they would not, of course, fail or disappoint us; but now, mixed with our pride in them was a disturbing feeling of our own worthlessness and the fear that we were not deserving of them. Who were we that we should take their sacrifices? Who were we that we should take the life’s blood of those comrades whom they had left behind under the little crosses? Who were we that we should take a leg, an arm, and leave a boy in his first flush of youth, to face life, a cripple? Oh! we should not, could not do it! We were not, are not, and shall never be worthy of the trials, the hardships, the pain, which they have stood and borne for us. But we can try. And now we has- tily brush aside our tears and cheer with all our hearts the returning heroes. There’s Dan, dear fellow; how well he looks! And there’s Bob and Charley, and Bill! Oh! Oh! Why does the policeman insist on our staying on this side of the rope? Why can’t we go out there with them? Suddenly the ropes are broken, and excited mothers, fathers, sisters and sweethearts rush out and into the arms of the smiling boys. The street becomes the happy scene of a moving human drama. Soon the sidewalks are deserted except for those unforunate few who have no lad in khaki, and who can do nothing but enviously lodk on at the glee of the rest. But no, what is that? A soldier in a wheel chair! Both of his legs are gone, and a hopeless look is on his boyish face. He is one of the convalescents from the city’s military hospital and has been wheeled out to see the return of the boys. As the flag goes sailing by, he raises his hand to quick salute, while a brighter look comes to his sad eyes. But with the passing of the colors, the haunting, pained expression returns. It is a face which draws attention by its very despair. So Margaret thought, as she turned away from the scene before her to face again the soldier in the wheel chair, Margaret had no one in the army. She was an orphan, who had come to see the happiness of those blessed with service stars. But now, conscious only of the look of the soldier, who could never march again, and filled with an engulfing pity, she cried out to him, distressfully : “Oh! don’t, please, please don’t look like that. Are you sorry you have given your legs away?” Now, perhaps this was an awful thing to say. It was not at all what she intended to say, but it seemed to have expressed itself. And now fearfully she awaited the result of her outburst. The boy in the wheel chair didn’t smile, or even look interested. In fact, an expression of bored protest seemed to flit over his face for an instant. Then summoning his polite- ness and looking calmly at the girl, he answered, “I did not leave my legs in France. If I had I would be happy.” In answer to Margaret’s questioning look, he went on, “I am an aviator, and the machine which F was piloting was wrecked, and this is the result.” He pointed to his stumps. “Oh! tell me about it,” breathed the girl. But Allan, for that was his name, shook his head. “Not now,” he answered ; “perhaps later.” “At the hall, then,” asked Margaret ; “for of course you are going there.” “Yes, if you'll take me, for my man who wheeled me here is out there welcoming home his brother.” “T'll be glad to wheel you down there,” answered Margaret. So that was how it happened that a half hour later, she found herself seated at a long table beside her wounded soldier, in the big hall, filled with tables and good things which had been prepared as a welcome home for the boys. All around her were

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THE EASTERNER Published by the Pupils of Eastern High School, Washington, D. C. Volume XXII JANUARY, 1919 Number 2 Heroes Everyone Katuertne McCautey, 12a. The boys were back! Down the avenue they swung, bronzed, straight, strong, veritable young gods in their worn khaki uniforms and sporty oversea’s caps. How our hearts thrilled as we watched them; how, in spite of all our efforts, a lump persisted in coming up into our throats to choke us, as we watched with tear- dimmed eyes the moving columns! They were our boys, our own brothers, friends, friends’ brothers who were marching before us. They were our boys who had left their homes, their work, all their interests to go across the sea and fight for us. They were our own boys, who had stood at the Marne, at Chateau Thierry, at Belleau Wood, and stubbornly held their lines until the Huns fled, terrified in the face of a courage, the like of which was alien to their brutal hearts, And now these same boys who had won the admiration and deep thankfulness of nations were returning to us. We had known that they would not, of course, fail or disappoint us; but now, mixed with our pride in them was a disturbing feeling of our own worthlessness and the fear that we were not deserving of them. Who were we that we should take their sacrifices? Who were we that we should take the life’s blood of those comrades whom they had left behind under the little crosses? Who were we that we should take a leg, an arm, and leave a boy in his first flush of youth, to face life, a cripple? Oh! we should not, could not do it! We were not, are not, and shall never be worthy of the trials, the hardships, the pain, which they have stood and borne for us. But we can try. And now we has- tily brush aside our tears and cheer with all our hearts the returning heroes. There’s Dan, dear fellow; how well he looks! And there’s Bob and Charley, and Bill! Oh! Oh! Why does the policeman insist on our staying on this side of the rope? Why can't we go out there with them? Suddenly the ropes are broken, and excited mothers, fathers, sisters and sweethearts rush out and into the arms of the smiling boys. The Street becomes the happy scene of a moving human drama. Soon the sidewalks are deserted except for those unforunate few who have no lad in khaki, and who can do nothing but enviously lodk on at the glee of the rest. But no, what is that? A soldier in a wheel chair! Both of his legs are gone, and a hopeless look is on his boyish face. He is one of the convalescents from the city’s military hospital and has been wheeled out to see the return of the boys. As the flag goes sailing by, he raises his hand to quick salute, while a brighter look comes to his sad eyes. But with the passing of the colors, the haunting, pained expression returns. It is a face which draws attention by its very despair. So Margaret thought, as she turned away from the scene before her to face again the soldier in the wheel chair, Margaret had no one in the army. She was an orphan, who had come to see the happiness of those blessed with service stars. But now, conscious only of the look of the soldier, who could never march again, and filled with an engulfing pity, she cried out to him, distressfully : “Oh! don’t, please, please don’t look like that. Are you sorry you have given your legs away?” Now, perhaps this was an awful thing to say. It was not at all what she intended to say, but it seemed to have expressed itself. And now fearfully she awaited the result of her outburst. The boy in the wheel chair didn’t smile, or even look interested. In fact, an expression of bored protest seemed to flit over his face for an instant. Then summoning his polite- ness and looking calmly at the girl, he answered, “I did not leave my legs in France. If I had I would be happy.” In answer to Margaret’s questioning look, he went on, “I am an aviator, and the machine which F was piloting was wrecked, and this is the result .” He pointed to his stumps. “Oh! tell me about it,” breathed the girl. But Allan, for that was his name, shook his head. “Not now,” he answered ; “perhaps later.” “At the hall, then,” asked Margaret; “for of course you are going there.” “Yes, if you'll take me, for my man who wheeled me here is out there welcoming home his brother.” “T'll be glad to wheel you down there,” answered Margaret. So that was how it happened that a half hour later, she found herself seated at a long table beside her wounded soldier, in the big hall, filled with tables and good things which had been prepared as a welcome home for the boys. All around her were

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8 TH clamations It did not lan might tell his er of dishes and ex and explanations as to t seem to be the best place in story, but tell it he did; an to tell it to Margaret, soon thi ‘ ing; and presently the whole room was quiet; and everyone gave close attention to the steady voice of the legless boy; and I have written it just as he told it. L “T am not the hero of this story, and [ am telling it because the real hero can never tell it, and because today, with all this joy at the return of these boys S° fortunate as to get to France, I felt as if I must do something in memory of him, who might have been 4 central figure here. “Jack and I enlisted in and both of us studied and rece! We were transferred to another camp, and from there we hoped to get our orders to go across. This all hap- ‘pened about eighteen months ago. Well, we were dis- appointed. We did not get our sailing orders. I felt badly, but Jack was heartbroken. He had counted so on going, and he found it very difficult to appear satis- fied in the home field. ‘There was a girl, too, whom he had left back home, and who, I understand, was anxious for her soldier to go over, and win medals and great honor. On her account, as well as his own, Jack desired to go, and every day he waited for orders. But they did not come, though Jack haunted the offices, and nearly drove our colonel and captain insane, beg- ging them to get the two of us over. He never left me out. But although the colonel sympathized, he could do nothing until word came from Washington. And as the days lengthened into weeks, it seemed as if we were destined to become S. A. H’s. “During this time Jack and I went up on scouting, trips daily, I usually acting as pilot. In spite of our disappointment, we managed to derive quite a little enjoyment out of these trips. One afternoon Jack came down to the locker in a low frame of mind. He had just received a letter from the girl, asking why he had not yet gone across; and he had just had an inter- view with the colonel, in which he had been told kindly, but finally, that his prospects for ever going across were hazy. Jack felt pretty badly, and suggested to me that we get the bus and take a little trip. I, desir- ing to cheer him up, hastened to get the boys to wheel out the plane, and to get our mechanic to look it over. A few minutes later we were soaring above the field; and with each mile we went upward, Jack’s spirits soared also, for he was a born flyer, and could never be unhappy when he was in the air. We had a pleas- ant trip, and were returning when the unforeseen oc- curred. One of the wires became loosened. A land- ing would have to be effected immediately. I got busy the Aviation Corps together, ived our commissions. gp BASTERNER ighted a field a little to the right, ibly make a safe landing, We r and began to descend, our downward rse hastened by the fast loosening wire. But | till peering through the glasses, cried out in horror as ae + to the field. There were more than a , who had evidently been playing over it. Now they were watch: ering plane in astonishment. We had to Tt was our life staked against the life those children. Jack never hesitated, nt, he swerved the plant sharply to the side, and a moment later, we crashed into an iron uisness settled over me, the last As tunconscio ; thing which came to my ears was the frightened volces of the children. When I came to again in the hospital they told me that Jack was dead and that I would have to lose my legs- After the operation my colonel came to see me. Among other things he told me that our orders had come soon after Jack and I had gone up. So while we lay among the ruins of the plane, our or- ders awaited us at camp.” Allan turned away from Margaret to face the as- sembled company: “Boys,” he said heartily, “no one welcomes you more warmly than I. Pam proud of you, proud to be your countryman ; but today, when you go out from here and receive all the tributes of your friends, not for my sake, but for the sake of him, who gave up his life, with none of the glory and excitement of battle, but with only the knowledge that he was doing right, I want you to remember the boys who never went across, who, though willing and eager, never saw France, never had the opportunity to win a Croix de Guerre,” Allan gave a little bow of thanks and turned back to Margaret. But she was standing, and now taking up her lemonade glass, she said, “Let's drink to the he- roes over here and over there, the stay-at-homes, and the boys who are now coming home, the ones who can m France and those who cannot return For they are all heroes, with the glasses and si where We might poss fence. never return fro! from the home camps. every one.” Ss Bd Donna the soup eater ate everything but the cup and left it on the bookcase. Mr. Rodis, the camouflage artist, puts up his desk top either to eat his lunch or talk to his friend across the aisle. A boy was writing to his mother in a Y. W, C. A hut; and this is what he said: “As I am writing this letter to you, the piano is playing in my uniform.”